Noise, brightness. And then color. Specks of color, specks of red on her red tank top turned crimson turned to rust. Specks spawned by the spectacle of the start of a killing spree, the opening shot in the next phase of a thirteen-year-long war that none of them asked for, none of them wanted to take part in. Specks of saltwater streaming their way down her cheeks, falling onto her shirt and mixing and mingling with the dried blood, sobs that were mere echoes of day-old screams sparked by a gun, the man with a gun and their vice principal, their vice principal had been extinguished mere feet from her, shot, eyes vacant, a slumping over, a dropping of the other shoe, a day that had been foretold and written in the stars but ignored and set aside for years, its arrival unexpected but inevitable, another cycle down the drain, another tragic twist, another downturn, followed by an awakening, a jolt upwards, sitting up and silently sobbing and shaking. Waking into this involuntary war, taken from all that she knew and loved and cherished and worshiped, taken from her life from her town from her school from her family from her mother and father and brothers and
oh god
they were watching. Her brothers were watching. This would be the last time they would ever see her. She knew it. Joanne Coleman knew that she would die.
They were watching.
She took a deep breath. Wiped the tears from her face. Had a look of steel in her eyes.
She turned towards the camera.
((G052 - JOANNE COLEMAN - START))
"Yo." Joanne Coleman tapped the camera at the base of the tree, her face taking up most of the view. "Eyes on me. Eyes on me."
Its lens turned towards her. She nodded. Oh yeah. That's it right there. That's what she was talking about.
Joanne Coleman sat, hunched over the camera, wide stance, gaze locked on the glass eye. Voice low, booming, all about that bass right there. Projection without shouting, voice resonant enough to reach all the way to the good old town of Chattanooga, Tennessee, no cam, no mic. Tanka and Roods knew what was up.
Or, hopefully they didn't know all of what was up. Not yet. Not now. But enough to know that it was time to listen. It was time to get down to business now, the real shit.
She cleared her throat, ran her hands through her beautiful, luscious locks. Not even a kidnapping would keep Miss Joanne from serving those lewks. Here she is, stranded on some random island in the middle of who-knows-where, serving up the very image of poise, confidence, charisma, uniqueness, nerve, talent on a silver platter, sprinkled with gold flakes. Stank in her eyes, that fierce smize that let everyone know who the real boss bitch, the real Queen Cleopatra was in this place. That look of capital-A Authority.
"T-man, Roodz, listen up. Now, for reasons that..." her voice, her breath caught in her throat. She couldn't tell them yet. They were so young, she couldn't- she shook her head, swallowed her panic. Continued, an octave higher, nice and perky. "For reasons that will become very clear very soon. Listen up. Dearest Platoon Leader, Tanka "T-man" Coleman, Esquire. And Rudo 'Roodz' Coleman, Rudest of Them All, 2018, I bequeath—" complete with hand flourishes towards the lens, affected pronunciation, aspirated consonants "—unto you all my video games."
Smiling wide now, flashing them platinum white grills right there. From ear to ear, wide enough to maybe say that everything would be alright, that everything's great, that everything's fine. Continue. "Yes, all of them. I leave unto you all the battles and challenges that I have been unable to finish. Now, you two are small, I know. But, but, look at yourselves! Y'all are built like tanks, livin' up to your namesakes right there. You're small, but also you're terrible. I'm sure the Mushroom Kingdom or Hyrule has NEVER seen the likes of you before."
Dramatic pause, showing off oration skills that would make Margaret Rebecca McAllister, the TRUE, the ONE AND ONLY First Lady she recognized, proud of her. Give the two (2) audience members time to absorb every word, because they'll need it.
It's all she could leave them with.
Smile wider. Continue.
"Now, I know you may be wondering, isn't this a bit much? How could I ever possibly finish it all? Well, hold up for a sec, little bros, gimme some time. What kind of big sis would I be if I just left you hanging like that?"
What kind of big sister leaves two seven-year-old boys in another unwanted war, by themselves, with nothing? Two angelic seven year-old boys, voices descended from the heavens above, left in a war not their own.
How long would it take Mom and Dad to start blaming each other for this?
Smize, bitch. Convince them your tears are just your eyes sparkling.
With a wag of her finger, a shake of her head, she continued. "Nuh-uh-uh, you won't be rid of me that easily. Before I go, I'll just leave you with a few tips. The rest you'll figure out, I'm sure of it. Both of y'all got big galaxy brains up—" jabbing an index finger toward her forehead "—here, I know it."
the opening shots of this war jabbing her ears
it was so close
"First—" her voice cracked, she cleared her throat, started over "—first of all, remember what I always tell you. We only
stan Kirby in this household. If y'all wanna make it to the big leagues, the upper echelons of Smash, put all your love—" a gunshot, she didn't want to go "—and trust and faith in him." She paused, looked around. Put her bags around her shoulder, unwillingly. "And do as I say, not as I do. Those manuals there, they're there for a reason. Pick up a book, read, it'll do you guys some good. Don't just button smash unless you want to be R-E-K-T, you hear me?" She nodded to herself, smug smile plastered on. "I think I've been heard." She hoped she had."And Y'ALL, I can't believe we've left, like, half the songs on Just Dance unplayed, Jesus. How can we take over Motown, Universal, WMG like that? Shit. Try some of those songs out, it won't—" another gunshot, she didn't want to go "—hurt, you know? Put some respect on Biebs and his empire, pay him proper tributes, et cetera...." and another gunshot. She had to go. Wrap it up, make Missus McAllister proud, make America proud. Make her boys proud.
Sharp inhale. She ran her fingers through her hair again. "I want y'all to know that—" she caught her breath, tried to swallow her fear "—your big sis ain't... she ain't gonna be around to watch over you anymore. Things are gonna be different from here on out."
Her eyes felt wet. Nothing to be done. She couldn't stop it. She couldn't stop any of this, no matter how badly she wanted to.
"Just know that it is neither of y'alls' fault, it is not yours, nor Mom's, nor Dad's, nor mine... some bad guys took me away, and- and there's nothing that can be done about it." A sob burst out. She wiped her eyes. Continued.
"Know that I'll always be around to watch over y'all, even if I'm not there physically. No matter what you do, I'll support your endeavors, I'll support y'all becoming football players or cooks or scientists, I will always be there. Watch out for each other, take care of each other." Because I can't hide you from this war anymore. "I love y'all. Bye."
The camera tracked Joanne as she picked up her bags, turned her tear-swept face away from the camera, and ran, far into the horizon.
((Joanne Coleman continues in Don't Stray Off The Path))
